


Getchoo

by hi_irashay



Series: Pinkerton Project [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: ... anyway, Angst, Because years and distance haven't helped, FEELINGS AU, Gen, Guys I don't even know how to tag this, JUSTICE FOR DONNA, Kick me out of the fandom and murder me dead, So MAYBE WHINY WRITING ABOUT IT WILL, Songfic, This is really just me trying to process my own emotions, as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:03:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hi_irashay/pseuds/hi_irashay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With every regeneration he couldn’t help but have renewed hope.  Maybe, just maybe, this was the man that would finally figure it out.  This would be the Doctor that would finally do right.</p>
<p>Two bodies and a million heartbreaks later - still nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getchoo

**Author's Note:**

> THE INSPIRATION: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pCUD52feOmg
> 
> THE CHALLENGE: This all still gives me an insane amount of Feelings that are apparently insurmountable. I just wanted #JusticeForDonna, to be honest. And this didn’t necessarily give me that, but it hurt so good… which felt so good? I DON’T KNOW. Also first time writing in the DW fandom or whatever, but mainly FEELINGS. 
> 
>  
> 
> I can't express just how much this is little more than a garbage personal Feelings dump. That I then tried to shape into a coherent fic, and probably failed. I am so, so, so sorry.

A flash, that’s all it took. A flash of red, eyes bright, quick temper flaring up and bubbling over. A flash and he was immediately back down, buried under layers of pain. He couldn’t escape it if he wanted to. But in reality, it was the last thing he would ever want.

With every regeneration he couldn’t help but have renewed hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was the man that would finally figure it out. This would be the Doctor that would finally do right.

Two bodies and a million heartbreaks later - still nothing.

_This is beginning to hurt. This is beginning to get serious._

+++

At first, logistics got in the way. The Doctor knew what would happen if she saw him, and that unacceptability was enough to make him hesitate. As much as he wanted to look her straight on - to see himself reflected in her eyes as he always had before - the time was not yet right and the consequences were far too dire.

He still checked on her, though, exercising extreme caution and care. Well, “check on” may be an over exaggeration - he still watched her. The Doctor watched her, and wondered, and hurt.

Eventually regeneration gave him more freedom, but his fledgling conscience still wasn’t quite ready to face her. He continued to watch, wonder, and hurt. That is, until she saved him again. Until the guilt gave him life, and the hurt boiled over into action.

_It used to be a game, now it’s a crying shame._

The first time she saw him was an accident. He had just… died. He had died, no bones about it. But her face had been there, helping him in absentia, keeping his hearts beating with bitter ferocity. The Doctor followed her to a market later that month. She breezed through it with a familiar expression on her face - vaguely annoyed at the world, but too beleaguered to do anything about it. He trailed her down a few aisles before misjudging her trajectory and coming face to face in the dairy section.

“Donna.” He couldn’t stop himself from saying it.

Her eyes narrowed as she sized him up, and he could feel himself shrinking under her scrutiny. _That’s new..._

“Who’s asking?” She spat, an eyebrow arched in a demand for answers.

That she was there - more so that she was just so startlingly unchanged, so shockingly her - threw him. “I-, I-” he stuttered, trying to hold his footing as his world tilted on its axis.

“You, you, you-” she retorted. “I’ll tell you what ‘you.’ You’re blocking the milk, _sir._ ” Her words dripped with derision, letting him know she didn’t for one second find him to be deserving of the courtesy.

_You think that I’m some kind of freak._

He chuckled under his breath in spite of his growing disorientation. She was still the same Donna, maybe he had done right. _Maybe…_ But there, there it was slithering behind her gaze. The unease, and fear, and pain. The recognition of the lack of recognition, the subconscious gaping hole. He had done that, and no amount of casual encounters by the dairy case could make up for it.

His shoulders slumped as he stepped aside. “My mistake, I thought...” Sadness clenched at one heart while bitterness tore at the other. He turned on his heel without finishing his thought and exited the market as quickly as possible, not allowing himself to look back. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

_I never meant to do all that I’ve done to you._

He went back to watching from a distance for a while and gave up the notion of approaching her. He didn’t want to risk a second encounter that might possibly trigger the destruction of the failsafes he’d put in place. It was an inexact science, as it often goes with Time Lords, and feeding his overwhelming need to see her wasn’t worth her life.

More accurately, he didn’t think he could handle seeing the unspeakable writhing behind her eyes again. It was cowardly, and Donna had never been cowardly. She wouldn’t stand for it now even if she never realized it was happening.

For now, though, he would continue to keep his watch. Maybe the next body would be the one.

+++

The second body after Donna came with a second mind, it seemed. The Doctor found that his rough edges were emphasized, displayed almost proudly where once he had hidden and softened them. He felt at once aged beyond his years and younger than he’d ever been, and it was disturbingly exhilarating.

It took a few months of adjusting before he felt ready to give it another shot. As his persona became grittier, watching from a distance had become harder. He tried to see himself through Donna’s eyes, but was unable to predict how she would react. It was, of course, impossible, but it helped to pass the time.

This time he found her on a park bench, her expression dreamy as the wind blew her hair around her face. Her gaze was slightly unfocused, as if her mind had left her body behind and traveled elsewhere.

The Doctor sat down next to her, and Donna unconsciously shifted further from him and pulled her body into itself as she crossed her arms. Her head turned slightly and eyes sharpened momentarily, giving him a cursory once over before returning to the middle distance. He stared at her, willing her to turn back, before taking matters into his own hands.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” he queried

“Hmm.” She made a noncommittal sound as she continued to watch the treeline.

“Are you waiting for someone? Looking for something?” He leaned forward, as if the intensity of his gaze could compel her

She turned to him suddenly, startled out of her reverie. Fear slithered across her face, unleashed from the cage of her eyes momentarily, before she composed her features into a signature scowl. “Can’t a person find any peace in this city?” she huffed.

“I don’t know, can they?” He countered, imbuing more meaning behind the words than he meant to.

She must have caught some of it, as she stared at him searchingly for a long moment. The corner of her mouth quirked upward as she turned away once more. Whether she had found something, or nothing, he knew not.

“I think it depends entirely on the company,” she said, addressing the treeline. “And good company can be hard to find.”

“Indeed it can,” he agreed as he shifted his gaze to join hers on the surrounding flora. A companionable silence grew between them as he synced his breathing to hers. Her presence alternately calmed him and agitated him in equal measure. So very Donna of her, even after all these years.

_What I did to them, you’ve done to me._

+++

The Doctor never told any of the others about this. Not Amy, not Rory, certainly not Clara. He hadn’t even entertained the thought of whether or not they would understand - he just knew in both of his hearts that he couldn’t. That this had to be his alone. Another burden on the pile of those he must bear in solitary agony.

For after all, it was his alone. The fault, the blame, the guilt. It was only fair that he should find no quarter.

_I can’t believe what you’ve done to me._

He never could have known that it would be her - the product of true friendship and equality - who would bring him to his knees. Her name was carved into both of his hearts, her face permanently tattooed onto his permanent conscience. She was possibly the only one to ever view him as an equal and to ask nothing in return. The quintessential companion.

Donna was part of why he had this face. He had to keep remembering. Perhaps his remembrance was what kept her going, kept her safe and sane and out of harm’s reach.

Or maybe, it was what kept him alive.


End file.
